The Heir Presumptive and the Heir Apparent
Margaret Wilson Oliphants
eBook
The conditions of literary work, especially in fiction, have so much altered since the time when a book came solidly before the world in one issue, that I think it right to say a word in explanation of the rapidity with which one work of mine has recently, within a few months, followed another. The fact is, that a writer of fiction is now so much drawn into the easy way of serial publication that he, or she, not unfrequently loses command of the times and seasons once so carefully studied. We have not yet come to the feuilleton of French newspapers, but there are said to be indications that this is on its way; and in the meantime the mode of publication in magazines, and country newspapers under the enterprising syndicate of Messrs. Tillotson, which are sometimes delayed and sometimes hurried according to the need of the periodicals rather than the calculations of the writer, brings together sometimes a small crowd of books by the same hand which have all run their little course, and ended it about the same time. These bring with them new complications in respect to America, copyright, which must be claimed at once or not at all; so that the writer of fiction when such a combination occurs has little choice, and must bring out his books much more quickly, one after another, than he has any desire to do. And some are necessarily delayed by the stream which hurries on the others. The present work was written some years ago, before the days of American copyright (such as it is). And it has happened that another recent publication of mine, "Diana Trelawney," published by Messrs. Blackwood, went astray and lost itself for many years in the dark recesses of the editor's cabinet, where it came to light suddenly after the seclusion of half a lifetime, its author herself having almost forgotten its existence. What the little manuscript might be doing all that time among other drifts of literature, who can say? But it had to come before the public when it reappeared. Thus it is that, without intention, and without any helter skelter of composition, it sometimes happens that one work hurries on the heels of another, without any power on the part of the writer to stay them in their career. It has been my fate in a long life of production to be credited chiefly with the equivocal virtue of industry, a quality so excellent in morals, so little satisfactory in art. How it is that to bear so virtuous and commendable a character should be unpleasing, is one of those whimsicalities of nature which none of us are without. I should prefer to disclaim that excellence if I might; but at all events so old a friend of the public as myself, who has always found so much moderate and kind friendliness of reception if seldom any enthusiasm, may be allowed to disclaim the corresponding vice of hurry in composition, which is alike disrespectful to the common patron, and derogatory to one's self. M. O. W. O.